Magic and Rarities
by LittleDesiredCullen
Summary: It had been three years since the fall of the dark lord. On a winter's night in the deserted graveyard of Godric's Hollow – appearing out of thin air – was an infant. No one knows where she came from or why she looks so familiar to Harry Potter. It is at Hogwarts where she finally feels like she belongs. She is the Girl Who Wasn't Born.


_So... Um... Hello! This is quite awkward for me, this is my first time stepping away from Twilight fanfiction, so I am uncertain and quite frankly scared as to how people in this fandom react. I suppose this will be a test of the waters. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this and if you do, let me know because I am interested in continuing this. Oh, and this story will likely take place in Harry's second year._

* * *

The faint whispers of snowflakes coming to rest on crumbling gravestones is all that can be heard in the deathly hush of winter.

It sweeps under his robes and drifts on a weak breath of wind like a spill of poisonous ink. Upon a distance glance, he may be mistaken for the Grim Reaper, coming to stir torment among the deceased. He did bear the appearance of death – with his emotionless, obsidian eyes and ashen skin that held engravings of timeworn scars and subtle wrinkles.

But Severus Snape was neither – he was simply a grieving man.

He despised the word with a heat that would both melt the snow and bring Godric's Hollow ablaze. It made him feel pathetic and uncomfortably exposed, at least with the girl he once loved, it was worth all the while.

Lily lays before him, yet not in a plain of feathery grass. Her emerald eyes aren't cast upward in a blissful daze and her hair no longer flows with the warmth of rich autumn leaves. Her hand isn't linked to his. She is underground. Out of reach and out of his heart, beside the boy that use to tease her – the boy that she choose over him.

His name is etched next to her's on their conjoined grave stone and he refused to look at it – willing it to disappear with a venomous glare.

 _'You never deserved her love, Potter.'_

It had been two years.

Snape wonders what urged his feet to make the distance to this miserable place, perhaps it was some withering, idiotic hope that she would be standing there, smiling that winsome smile of her's. But she wasn't, and she never would again.

Turning his head away, he considers his return back to Hogwarts. It was a place of dreams and ambitions to the eyes of the young wizards and witches that wore at his sanity. To Snape, it was a curse. He would cling to it's ancient walls like a child would to a blanket. That castle breathed her very being and without it there for him to lean on, it would have surely been swallowed into the abyss of corrupted souls.

A sharp breeze lashed at his face and it unearthed a wetness under his eyes, something rare and utterly shaming – tears. It had made a discreet descend down his cheeks and he wiped it away roughly with his hand.

Suddenly, a pricing sound tore at the silence. Startled, Snape whirled around sharply, wand firm in his grasp.

Yet with a quick sweep of his eyes over the barren landscape, not an intruder could be seen. It was when he looked back to Lily's grave was when he finally saw it. Laying in the powdery snow, bearing no clothing or source of manifestation, was a wailing infant.

The sight stiffened his limbs and he felt his wand fall limp at his side. Staring unblinking for a few stunned moments, Snape inched toward the distressed creature.

It's tiny form trembled violently in the harsh temperatures, it cries pleading. Giving into the shrilling nuisance, he knelt down and gathered the infant from the ground. Shifting it clumsily in his arms, he shed himself of his heavy robe and swaddled it with careful hands before grazing the tip of his wand over the small body.

Very quickly, the infant settled within his arms, a soft rose color flooding in it's cheeks. With a delicate twitch of it's eyelids, they fluttered open and a violent shiver tore up the length of Snape's spine.

Her eyes were the most fiercest shade of emerald green.

* * *

"Albus – headmaster."

His lungs sear lightly as oxygen rushes eagerly within them. Even though the hour was late and had disposed the dark corridors of students, Snape still raced through them as though it was his only means of surviving.

And here he was – eyes wide in madness and hair windblown from his travels. Simply a pathetic man with an infant that he was too witless to discard on the doorstep of an orphanage.

Albus Dumbledore stood before him, studying his unhinged state with eyes that stared unblinking for a fleeting moment before he floated toward him.

"Your visit to Godric's Hollow went far beyond your initial plans, I see." He murmured and a wisp of a smile appeared beneath a stream of silvery hair.

Snape felt his insides corrode at the sudden exposure, yet he stiffens his spine and conceals the fuming embarrassment behind black, emotionless eyes.

"Obviously," He whispered bitterly. "Now, would you please..." He jerked his head toward the squirming bundle that laid rigidly in his arms.

Dumbledore hands were gentle as he freed Snape of the burden. His eyes bore a soft twinkle as he peered down into the slumbering face of the nameless infant. When she opened her eyes, a soft gasp fled from his lips and Snape threw his head in another direction – nauseated with the thought of witnessing that haunting green color again.

With a light wiggle of his fingers, colorful orbs appear and float above the infant's head. Cooing softly, she swatted at them with tiny, plump hands. Albus chuckled at the awe that swam in her eyes and withdrew his wand from his robe, gently exacting a wisp of pale blue from her temple and allowed it to fall into the Pensieve that he now stood over.

"Astonishing!" He breathed and Snape was unable to join him in the viewing as his entirety was drenched in heavy turmoil.

Dumbledore gazed down at the infant with sparkling eyes. "You were neither born nor conceived... You are a creation of magic."

"Impossible!" Snape sneered – but the curve of the elderly wizard's lips was unwavering in it's intensity.

"Until now, Severus," He corrected lightly. "This child is as much as a phenomenon as young Harry."

While Dumbledore's face was aglow with amazement, a glare was etched heavily at Snape's ashen features.

Softly, the headmaster spoke to the child. "Such a promising witch I see in you, sweet Sage."

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 _I sincerely hope that you all enjoyed this and that I didn't ruin anything as I have never wrote for this fandom before. Just a quick side note, the girl's name is indeed Sage, which took me a_ while _to come up with. If you did enjoy this, reviews are warmly welcomed. Until next time, xoxo_


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